


Like a Lighthouse

by stolenfaye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, More Chapters to Come, Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-10 07:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20131882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stolenfaye/pseuds/stolenfaye
Summary: Tonks has just told Lupin - and all of their friends and peers - her feelings. In the wake of Dumbledore's passing, she tries to figure out how she's to deal with the mortification.





	1. The Best and Only Man for the Job

On the night of Albus Dumbledore’s death, lightning had struck the astronomy tower at Hogwarts. Nymphadora Tonks, on her way to the border of the Hogwarts grounds, remembered looking back up at the thing and gasping at the sudden flash high above, and the furious rumble of thunder that followed, strong enough to shake her bones. She remembered so vividly, because it had begun to rain just a second later, as if to pour salt into all of their wounds. 

Something about the shock of the attack kept even good friends from speaking as the fighters left the castle. Tonks felt her allies around her in the trees, crunching on the path behind and before her, but no one spoke a word. She could see Remus Lupin up ahead, possessed of a loping agility that eluded her utterly on this gravelly, winding path. As usual, he held his head down, and he looked at no one. 

She thought of times, months past, when she would have jogged to catch up with him. She thought of looping her arm in his, strolling so that she bumped his hip, tugging a smile free from his overcast expression. 

It wasn’t in her to do it now. 

On top of the shock of death and having survived a dangerous battle, Tonks was still reeling from the events that had followed. She had confessed to Remus (again). Worse, she had confessed to him, angrily, shouting, in front of most of their friends, peers, and— in his case— students. She had humiliated the both of them.  
Maybe it was only a matter of time, she thought, kicking a rock down the path. It bounced twice and struck Remus’ calf. Tonks ducked behind a tree and wished she could change her hair and skin to a signature camouflage pattern that suited the dark forest around Hogwarts. It had been a coveted ability in the auror department; Tonks would have had no qualms using it now, to escape the curious and troubled gaze of the man she loved. But it wasn’t in her, either. There was barely anything of herself inside these days.

She stayed there until she saw him reach the gate, turn to pat Arthur amiably on the arm, and then apparate away. He was so elegant, so graceful and flawless in his magic, she thought, sighing. When she apparated a few moments later, she stumbled. She accidentally thought of where she wanted to be most: at the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place, beside Lupin, across the table from Sirius, all having a warm cuppa in the witching hours before dawn. This thought, instead of her intended location, led to the split second indecision that led to her splinching just the edge of her fingernail. 

Tonks appeared in her apartment stairwell in Hogsmeade, shaking her hand and hissing through her teeth. The magic had cut to the quick, but done no more, and she sucked her pinky into her mouth as she stomped up the stairs to her floor. Each step left a small puddle of rain. 

When she opened the door and looked in, all of the feelings that Auror Tonks had left hidden for Nymphadora came flooding in with her. This space felt barren and foolish: a clumsily embroidered pillow on the worn old couch, dish sets for one in the sink, large pairs of boots by the door and heavy trenches hanging on the coat rack next to unreasonably long scarves and brightly colored hats. To whom did all of these things belong? What was she playing at? 

What kind of Auror had pompom tassels at the ends of her scarves? What kind of Auror couldn’t do household cleaning spells? What kind of Auror got so hung up over a man that her only source of comfort in the last year has been a growing collection of pathetic, werewolf-themed, muggle romance novels?!

What kind of Auror let Death Eaters into Hogwarts under her very nose? 

Tonks slammed the door behind herself and collapsed into the nearest chair, nearly pulling her still grey-dappled hair out. Her face screwed up, heat flooded her cheeks, and a scream fought to leave her chest. 

What the hell had she been playing at?

Tonks stayed there at the table, sopping wet, fighting tears, half asleep for about half an hour. The indulgence of the doubts and emotions was hard to resist, but she thought back to her father and the sort of easy going wisdom he’d often imparted to her. 

“Most of the things I love most about my life,” he’d said, “like you and Mum, wouldn’t be part of my life unless I told meself a small lie.”

“A lie?” small Tonks had scoffed, and he’d tweaked her nose playfully. 

“The lie that I was the best and only man for the job.” 

Auror Tonks got to her feet and shucked off the soaked trench coat that had bogged her down. She kicked off her boots and headed for the bedroom with a purposeful stride. 

She— no, all of them— had messed up. Royally. But she was one of the only Aurors who was in the Order and in her office, next to Kingsley and Moody. She got along with the kids, despite the depression that had kept her from speaking to nearly anybody all year. She was damned good at her job most of the time, and Mad-Eye Moody believed in her. She was the best and only person at being Auror Tonks. And she would need to rest.

She deserved to rest.


	2. Bodies Do Weird Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks gets a visitor in the dead of night, and they figure out what to do with each other.

Just an hour into said resting, Tonks woke and grabbed her wand from the nightstand. She lay still under her covers, listening for the source of the noise that had roused her.  


Quiet knocks at the door.  


“The hell?” she grumbled to herself, glancing at her clock: 12:30 AM.  


She swung her legs out of bed and approached the door. She had wards against those with the dark mark, or Muggles, or cursed objects. None of these were indicated as she put her hand on the doorknob. Wand levelled at chest height, she swung the door open.  


“Remus?”  


Nymphadora threw her hands up over her chest as if he’d never seen her braless before— or maybe as though she were holding her heart in. She didn’t know which. Bodies do weird things, she would know.  


Remus was the darkest thing in the dank hall of her apartment building, and his smile was the smallest thing, but his eyes shone in the dark like lighthouse beacons. He was tall and ragged, and his very body radiated a nervous energy.  


“I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s late. I’ll, ah, talk to you tomorrow.” He finished the word in her living room, because she had just dragged him in. She threw herself into his arms and couldn’t help the sigh that came from her lips. She didn’t know why he was here, but he was, and it was the best thing she’d woken up to in years. Remus wrapping his arms around her, too, was like all of the frosting and a cherry on top.  


She backed up a bit and looked up at him, grinning sleepily. “What’re you doing here, Moony?”  


Something flashed across his face at the use of the nickname, but whatever it was quickly settled into an abashed smile. Those moon-filled eyes darted away, around her apartment. He had been there before, but he was looking at it like it was new, and possibly dangerous. “Nymphadora, I’ve had some time to think.”  


Tonks furrowed her brows, about to reprimand him, when she noticed his hand gently caressing her side, even as he looked about. More and more frequently, his gaze was returning to her. She thought she understood a little.  


After the attack on Hogwarts under her very nose, nothing felt safe or certain. Tonks had jumped at shadows, kept her wand up her sleeve on her way home. She hadn’t known Dumbledore too well—not as well as Remus had, but his loss was like that of a familiar landmark. Through all the danger she’d faced, through all the uncertainty, she had never considered that Dumbledore wouldn’t be there. Yes, Remus had been here, in this apartment before, but neither of them had ever been in a world without Dumbledore.  


Remus’ voice cut through her thoughts, like it always did. “I’ve warned you about me,” he said sternly.  


“And—” she started, having done this dance more than once.  


“And,” he cut her off, “you’ve told me you don’t care.” She nodded, closing her eyes. She’d put herself out there in front of all of those members of the Order, in front of her old teachers at Hogwarts, and now he had to come here and rub it in? It didn’t mean she wouldn’t still love him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt every time he said the words.  


His hand cupped the side of her face.  


Tonks eyes flew up to his, shock flooding her at the intimate gesture. She nearly dropped her wand. His gaze was locked upon her face now: stern, tired, kind, and scared. His thumb brushed at her cheek gently, and she watched something fall apart inside of him as she leaned into his touch. “Remus,” she whispered, when his lips parted and he drew in a sharp breath.  


“I can’t be everything you want in a man,” he said, like a confession, like pleading for his life. The hand at her side gripped her tightly now. “I must leave you sometimes, and I can’t provide much money, but—” and everything hinged on that tiny three letter word—“I will do everything I can for you, if you’ll still have me.  


“I love you,” he whispered. She could hear a ragged sob on the back of his words; it pained her to hear it, and yet he went on, “I love you more than I ever thought I could. Will you take that? Can that be enough?”  


Tonks’ heart was beating out of her chest. Stunned, wide-eyed, feeling like she was crumbling stone at the foot of that lighthouse, she swallowed and nodded as tears filled her eyes. “I love you, too,” she gasped, and she clutched him to her.  


They held each other so tightly, it was hard to breathe. He was tall enough to rest his head on top of her bird’s nest of mousy hair. She was small enough to fold into his embrace and disappear into those travel-worn robes. Tonks breathed in his scent, like Earl Grey and musk, and she nuzzled into his chest, trying to keep back sobs.  


“Nym—Tonks,” she heard him say through his chest. It didn’t matter anymore what he called her. “I’m sorry.”  


She shook her head. “No, stop saying that,” she sniffled, looking like she was about to hex him. But when she pulled back and glanced up at his face, he was grinning.  


He put a hand on the fist that she had actually raised and held it like they were about to dance. “No, I’m sorry it took me so long.”  


Months of being low, of worry, of bitterness were now washed away. Tonks sighed, and her whole body relaxed in his arms. “You’re thickheaded,” she informed him.  


“And I’m sorry it’s so late,” he added, wincing.  


“Yeah, well, we have the rest of our lives ahead,” she shrugged, pulling his arm around her and heading back for the bedroom. He didn’t follow.  


“No, I mean it’s so late at night…” Remus was glancing around again, nervous. “I just thought that I had to tell you and didn’t even…”  


“Yeah,” she said slowly, grinning, “well, you are Moony, after all.” She pulled gently at his arm again. “Now come to bed. Can’t have you wandering about too late at night, eh?”  


He hesitated.  


Remus had done this before. They had both done this before. Tonks was used to his polite rejections, his backing out the moment when she thought she’d made some ground. This, she thought, would be the moment of truth.  


“Just so you know,” he chuckled nervously as he unbuttoned the cloak around his neck, “I’m not some Adonis in my twenties.”  


With each button undone, Tonks’ grin got bigger. She stepped closer to him and, after tucking her wand behind her ear, placed her hands under his cloak, under his jacket, against the heat of his button-down. She felt muscle, ribs, and warmth like a steaming cuppa underneath her fingers. “You’re exactly what I want,” she murmured, running her hands slowly up his torso. She delighted again in the way he flushed, and in the way he licked his lips.  


When she pulled him gently again, he came with her.


	3. The Good One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know what y'all are here for. It's what I'm here for.

His cloak lay in the hallway, a few feet from his jacket. He’d hastily placed his wand on her vanity so that it rolled into her own wand. His shoes were kicked off, socks after, then he was on top of her.

Tonks squealed with giggles as his mustache tickled her throat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her legs up to encircle his waist. She didn’t think anything in her life had felt so natural, so pleasant, as this werewolf on top of her.

Remus’ kisses were urgent and wet, driving Tonks to thoughts of where he could take those lips, how she could enjoy them endlessly. When she ground herself against him, he sat up and looked down at her.

Tonks lay back on her messed bed, smiling up at him. In the heat of the moment, her hair had taken on a will of its own, shifting into her natural, deep black. Remus took her in as he unbuttoned his shirt. Tonks sat up so that she could kiss at his exposed chest and she felt Remus sigh against her hair.

She brushed ragged scars with her lips, and as she helped him push the shirt from his arms, they ghosted beneath her fingertips. He seemed to pause, looking down at her, kissing her hair. “Remus,” she whispered, breathily, “Pants, please.”

“Right,” he murmured. He lowered her gently back to the bed and kicked those off, too. She didn’t give him time to hesitate with the underwear, as she began yanking them off by herself.

“Merlin,” he gasped, “Something you want?”

Tonks giggled, casting his underpants away with a flourish. “Yes, sir.” Her eyes roamed hungrily over the lean, scarred flesh, illuminated only by the moon.

He shook her from her reverie with another comment, “This is unfair. You still have clothes on.” His voice was higher and breathier than usual. Nerves, she thought.

“Oh yeah,” Tonks pulled her shirt off, followed closely by her shorts, then threw those aside, too, about to ask him how he wanted her when she caught sight of his face. “What?”

“Merlin,” he said again, low and soft. “You’re beautiful.”

Tonks couldn’t stop the smile that took over her face. She reached out and took his face in her hands. “I think you are, too,” she whispered, kissing him.

This kiss was gentle and slow, so completely different from the previous ones that Tonks found herself reeling. He gathered her slowly into his arms again as he tasted her, physically affirmed his love for her. Tonks tangled her fingers in his hair, giggled beneath his lips. “What’s funny?” he murmured against her. To allow her to answer, he traveled down to her throat again and kissed right above her pulse.

“I’m so happy,” she gasped. “Thank you, Remus.”

He was guiding her closer and she felt his erection push wetly against her belly. “You,” he whispered, “always make me happy.” One hand found her right nipple and caressed it. Tonks whimpered softly, eliciting a groan from him that was very much like a growl. She found that she quite liked it.

“Are you ready?” he asked huskily. Tonks only nodded, panting.

Remus hissed as he slowly entered her. She was holding her breath, and she felt it release by inches as he ran his thumbs firmly over her sides. He was slow and languorous with his lovemaking, and Tonks thought she was rather okay with that, especially given that it gave him time to experiment with his hands and mouth.

He was cracker at manipulating her breasts, using only tweaks and gentle pulls to drive her wild. He also liked to kiss her neck, lave at her pulse, which only left her feeling needier. And any time, every time that she dug her nails into his flesh, he groaned for her, rolling his neck like working out a tic in his shoulder.

At first, she couldn’t tell whether he liked it or not, so she bit his shoulder the next time he made her particularly excited.

That set him off. Abruptly, he pulled out of her, causing Tonks to whimper with disappointment. But before she could say anything, he was lifting her and flipping her onto her hands and knees before him. “Remus!” she gasped when he curled his fingers into her hips, when he bit down her nape and then down the curve of her spine. “Oh, Remus, that’s—Ah!”

He thrust into her abruptly, completely different from when he had started.

Bouncing against him, stunned and exhilarated, Tonks gasped out his name in bursts. “_Re_mus! Yes! Ah!” She arched her back against the warm wetness of his chest and abdomen, but he forced her into a bow again, to better angle himself.

“You,” he grunted, “are a very saucy witch.” He reached forward and squeezed a small breast, triggering an orgasm which shuddered through her.

“Mmm,” she groaned. “You push me to it.”

“I? I?” he gave a laugh, so unlike the gentle chuckles she had heard during Order meetings, in quiet bars. This one was sarcastic and colorful. Like he was actually happy. Like she was seeing a whole new side to him. “You, Dora, are going to push me to come in a few moments.”

Tonks twisted, trying to see his face and failing. But he saw what she was doing and reached for her. He pulled her flush against his chest, brought a hand to her jaw to pull her mouth back to him, swallowed her moans as his pace slowed and he thrust into her while kissing her.

She cried out against him when he came inside, reaching her climax again. They were both panting, both groaning like beasts by the time they’d finished, until all that was left was his seed dripping down her leg and happy moans as they lapped at each other’s lips.

“Fuck, Remus,” Tonks whispered, as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. The werewolf caressed her back and kissed her forehead, clearly still panting from the exertion. After a moment, he leaned back and grabbed his wand to perform a safety spell. She felt the magic of it tingle through her lower body. She would definitely have to get the potion from now on. “Thanks,” she panted.

“Of course,” he murmured. She glanced at him, found his expression sleepy, sated. She decided she liked this expression on his face better than any other. Tonks sprinkled a few more kisses along his cheek to his lips, then leaned back, climbing under the covers.

And, without hesitation, he followed. He made a comforting crescent behind her, exuding warmth and fitting snugly against her. She smiled as his arms came around her, and his moustache tickled her neck.

“You’ll be here in the morning, right, Remus?” she yawned.

“Of course,” he sighed against her ear. Tonks thought of the loneliness she had felt in this room for months, and wondered, stunned, at how she managed to be so content and, well, in such good company just when she needed it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning after to follow.


	4. Pekoe, Eggs, and Kipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some fluff! One of these scenes is undoubtedly inspired by atalienart's work on tumblr! https://atalienart.tumblr.com/tagged/my+art
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me. Goodness knows I'll likely post more Remadora.

Tonks was roused from sleep again, but this time by the sensation of bristles against her neck. Not quite awake, she inclined her head forward, exposing her nape to the ticklish sensation. They stirred a giggle from somewhere deep in her chest.

“Hmm?” said a voice just above her ear. No, that wasn’t quite right. It felt like it was all around her, a sound trapped by the blankets.

Tonks trailed her fingers down the lightly hairy arm slung over her side, until she reached scarred and rough hands. She entwined her fingers with his, and sighed in utter contentment.

Then it all came crashing back upon her: Dumbledore’s death, the tension at the ministry, her long spell of waiting for Remus to come back, waiting for any good news at all.

She gasped, trying to weigh and consider everything. The pillow pushed back against her face, making it difficult to breathe. Tonks sat up, breathing heavily, and gathered her bearings.

She found herself doing this often these days: wake up, look for something to anchor to. There was her wand on the dresser table (next to Remus’). There was her modest bookshelf in the corner (and next to that, his shoes, haphazardly assorted). The tree just outside her window where that one squirrel usually had his morning breakfast (whence just last night, moonlight had filtered into the room).

Nymphadora Tonks was in her room. But before she could think much else, an arm curved around her back and a warm hand was cradling the side of her face. “Nymphadora, what’s wrong?”

There he was. How couldn’t she smile to see him?

Lupin, this morning, was tousle-haired (!!), groggy, and utterly naked (!!!) beside her. The coarse pad of his thumb stroked circles in her cheek, and Tonks leaned into his touch. “Just remembered yesterday,” she mumbled. After a moment, she raised her gaze to his again. His eyes were the warm brown of straight Earl Grey. “Wotcher, Remus?”

“I?” he said grimly. His voice was almost gravelly. “I lay safely in the bed of a woman who…who lov-ves me,” He stuttered through ‘loves,’ before he went on, “and I got a full night’s sleep.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Best night of my life,” he affirmed, still meeting her gaze grimly. “And you?”

Tonks smirked, despite herself. “Me, too.” She drank in the sight of his face: the twist of his lips in a slight frown, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the way his eyes were fixed on her own. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead, hoping to iron out the tension there, and indeed, it was replaced by surprise as she pulled away. She spoke before he could ask any more about how she felt. “Can you cook, Remus?” 

A dry chuckle escaped him and then he was grinning at her. “I’ve been told that I can roast a rabbit over a spit without burning it too badly.” Tonks tried to swallow her surprise at this unexpected response. “I also,” he went on, in a lower, softer tone, “can make a fine pot of strong tea.” He was caressing the smooth, freckled skin of her back and she was struggling to stay focused on what she had been planning to do, on getting up, being productive. But before she could respond, he had pulled her into a hug, and it was the warmest, most secure she had ever felt. 

“Let’s see what we can get up to,” Tonks murmured against his shoulder. She finally disentangled herself from him and moved to the side of the bed, where she began to pick up her pajamas again. Fully dressed now, she became aware of an annoying tingle of hair against her ears. She held her breath a moment, focusing on a pixie cut that wouldn’t tickle so much; Tonks felt the change sweep over her hair like a breeze, and she smiled, catching a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. But in it, she also caught sight of Lupin’s expression and the way he crossed his arms over his chest. Scars seemed to stretch out from the very places where his fingertips were now. Under the sunlight, they were white and pink, almost like tricks of the light against his pale skin. He had patches of sunburn on his shoulders, and at least two bruises against his ribs, partially hidden by his arms. Tonks glanced at the calendar beside the vanity. 

She had begun circling the phases of the moon on the calendar in big, inky circles, and scribbling big red x’s over the days that had passed since Lupin had left.  _ So,  _ she thought,  _ he’s been roasting hares and working outside.  _ She wondered whether that life had suited him better, whether he would regret a life in the city again, whether he had met any female werewolves who understood him better, who knew what he went through—

_ Enough.  _ Tonks sighed and reached for the Sharpie she kept tied to the calendar by a small ribbon. Her mother had always scoffed at such things, but they reminded her of her dad. Like putting the thoughts into storage, she made the big x on yesterday and the day before. The full moon had been a week ago. 

He would be hurting, then. 

And Nymphadora Tonks, Half-blood, Animorphmagus, Auror, Member of the Order, 20-something, muggle lit-lover, and clumsy goober— she would tend to his hurts as only she could. 

Tonks turned and looked back at him, finding his eyes on her as ever before. “Well, come make me tea, Moony,” she whispered, and a smile came naturally to her face, as soon as she saw him. It helped that he was nude and in her bed, and delectable to look at. 

He hesitated, cheeks coloring. “C-can you pass me my clothes, please?” 

She grumbled as she approached the bedside again, “But I kinda wanted to see your butt, Remus. It’s not as though I got many chances to before, and it’s so cute—” 

_ “Dora!”  _ he gasped, clearly scandalized. Adorable. 

She rolled her eyes and levitated his clothes from across the floor, but not quite sending them his way yet. “Remus Lupin, it’s not as though I haven’t just fucked you silly. Without your clothes.” 

Lupin was utterly pink. “B-but that was— was at night?!” 

“So?” 

“It was dark!” 

“So?” 

“You may not like what you see in the light of day.” Lupin rubbed wearily at his face, sighing. He flinched when the pile of clothes fell onto the bed in his lap. 

Tonks put a hand over his, and allowed the other to slip slowly, lovingly, along the curve of his shoulder, then the length of his arm. Her fingers drifted over upraised scars, the occasional mole, fair hairs and bluish veins. “I love all of what I see,” she told him, not smiling now. Remus was watching her, and his hand tightened into a fist beneath hers. “But time will tell.” 

Taking another steadying breath, Tonks got to her feet again and headed for the door, grabbing her wand on the way. “Join me soon, alright? I don’t really wake up proper until I’ve had a cuppa.” 

Ten minutes later, Tonks found herself delightfully surprised.

For starters, mere moments after she had gotten up and opened the refrigerator, Lupin had emerged from the bedroom, wand in hand, and completely starkers. She heard him pad into the room, and hadn’t immediately turned around, but when she did, she couldn’t stop an enormously goofy smile from crossing her face. 

He was lanky and surprisingly broad-shouldered. The scars that crisscrossed his pale skin were, to be frank, nothing very new, although Tonks couldn’t ignore what appeared to be a dense collection of bite marks on one firm buttock. Lupin’s face was red, but smiling gently as he pointed his wand at a throw pillow on her lumpy couch and, with a few tricky wand movements, transfigured it into a bathrobe. “You don’t mind, do you, Tonks?” She grinned as it levitated onto his shoulders, and he pulled it closed. 

“Never,” she’d said. She decided she would tell him later that there was a large, Muggle-made patch on the back, in the shape of a wolf’s head. 

For seconds, Lupin had ended up making the entire breakfast for her, and at extraordinary speed. He had omitted the fact that he was a dab hand at eggs scrambled in butter, and as she’d pulled out tins of kippers and thick slices of wheat bread for toasting, she’d watched him gently frowning over the pan, strategically stirring and adding pepper where he saw fit. 

For thirds, they ended up laughing. About Dumbledore. 

Lupin ate fast, as though someone would steal his food if he weren’t inhaling it, but between gulps, he was practically wheezing as he told her about his first time meeting the wizard. “Naturally, there are a few wolfish qualities that one takes on after being bitten,” he said, clearing his palette with her orange pekoe. “My parents had been trying to figure out what to do because just a few nights before, I— in my werewolf form, of course— had just--excuse me— urinated all over my mother’s herb garden. Marking my territory, you know. But my father hadn’t known!”

“How couldn’t he?” Tonks giggled.

Lupin shrugged, stuffing toast into his mouth. “It was certainly obvious to me, and mother must have figured it out, because she gave me such a telling-off. But when Dumbledore came to deliver my Hogwarts letter, my father insisted upon serving him tea, and he was quite fond of putting a few petals of lavender in his Earl Grey.” He fixed Tonks with a stern, almost professorial look. “That is, by the way, a very nice touch when not sprinkled with werewolf urine.” 

Tonks collapsed into giggles, covering her face as if she could not bear to see what would happen next. Lupin went on, “I knew as soon as he brought the tea into the room. I remember, because I had to hold my breath to keep from smelling it. Mother held the cup to her lips and froze, then looked at Father, eyes large as saucers. ‘Dear,’ she said. ‘You didn’t…’”

“He did,” Tonks whispered, grinning at him. 

Lupin nodded, holding a finger up. “Dumbledore, incredible wizard that he was, must have figured it out. Either from the look on my face, or maybe he could sense it, too, but he gently refused the cup and reached for the biscuits Father had offered him instead. ‘I find,’” Remus said in a terrible impression of Dumbledore’s soft voice, “‘that strong tea after 11 in the morning will keep me up for days at a time.’

“Well, we all believed him, after having heard how eccentric he was,” Lupin went on. He had finished his food while Tonks still had a full mug of tea and two slices of toast waiting for her. He leaned back in his chair and smirked at her, intertwining his fingers as he spoke, “But my first day at Hogwarts, he was drinking tea at the head table, at 9 o’clock at night! In fact,” this is when Lupin started to laugh harder than he had yet, “it was Earl Grey, with lavender. And he caught my eye and just gave me the biggest wink!” 

“I remember that wink,” Tonks sighed. “You wouldn’t believe how many times Filch brought me to the Headmaster’s office, and he’d just send me right back out again with that wink.” 

“What did you get in trouble for?” Lupin stretched in his chair and scratched at his chin quickly, the way a dog might. 

“Ohh,” Tonks colored again, though she willed her face not to show it. “I used to knock the trophies in the trophy room over all the time. I liked going in there, seeing family names. Made an awful racket. Filch had this habit of stacking them all next to each other.” She finished off the toast, leaving a smear of marmalade along her bottom lip. “I also got in trouble for impersonating teachers.”

“Oh, no,” Lupin groaned. 

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Tonks chuckled. “I could do a perfect Madame Hooch. I think Dumbledore thought it was funny.” 

Lupin was staring intently at her, and Tonks flushed, trying to think why. She reached for her mug, hoping to conceal her face with it, when he put a hand on her wrist and scooted closer to her. “Wait a moment, Dora,” he said under his breath. He leaned close, so she did. That was when he used his thumb to swipe the marmalade from her face. Lupin grinned as he licked the digit clean.

Tonks struggled for some firm ground to stand on. “Who’s been biting your arse?” she blurted, coloring spectacularly. 

Lupin looked rather dumbstruck and seemed to grope for words for a moment. Finally, he chuckled. He kept going until the sound turned into a downright giggle, and he was wiping tears from his eye. “Your cousin, actually.”

“Ooh,” Tonks mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of competition.” 

_ “Merlin,  _ no!” Lupin choked, still laughing. “He was an animagus, used to run with me on full moons. Nipping me on the arse was his way of keeping me in line.” 

“How many times…” 

“Dozens,” Lupin answered, rolling his eyes. “Per run.” 

“I wish I could run with you,” Tonks whispered. They were quiet a moment; Lupin was looking out the window, and Tonks slurped at her tea, in hopes of hiding her face. Some of it slopped onto her pajama shirt, and she groaned, trying to dab at it with a napkin. 

“Tonks.”

“Hmm?” It would totally stain. Of course.

_ “Nymphadora.”  _ She glanced up, only to find him standing before her, face just inches from her own. She didn’t know how to read the features of his face, but his eyes were locked onto her before he kissed her, deeply, slowly. He tasted of cinnamon and orange, and kipper a little, too. 

Her head was reeling when she pulled away, and she had half a mind to pull Remus back into the bedroom for a little more tomfoolery, but she would have to report in. There was no way to get around that. 

Nymphadora cupped his face in her hands, watched something like a smile settle over him. “I’ve gotta go to work,” she sighed. “But I think we can both squeeze in for a shower?” 


End file.
